We Have the Technology
by Sittingduck1313
Summary: An Old War Buddy(TM) buys passage on Serenity, bringing an unseen freeloader with him and with blue gloved men hot on his trail. PG-13 rating only applies to violence in Chapter 3. The rest is PG.
1. Prologue

Firefly is the property of Joss Whedon, blah blah blah. You know the drill

Note: This fic was previously serialized by me on Firefly Fans, which is why you're getting the whole story at once. Beta reading courtesy of Apollo and Guildsister. Reviews are of course welcome.

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_Perfect_, Nitro thought as he crawled out of the Blue Sun facility through an opening that a normal-sized man could barely fit his head in. _Still have a couple of minutes before it goes up, and Clarence hasn't shown his unwelcome self the whole time_. He decided to stay and watch the show. It was an unmarked facility in a bad part of town, so the law would take a while to arrive.

As he watched the facility perfectly collapse under the explosion, barely affecting the buildings next to it, he got the unnerving feeling that someone was approaching. Looking down the street, he saw two men coming, both wearing the hated purple uniforms. _Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze, Feds! Gotta put them down before they spot me_. Almost instantly, the boosters cut in and a set of crosshairs appeared before his eye. A split second later, he fired two bursts from his sub-machine gun, hitting both Feds between the eyes. Although they were almost certainly ordinary Feds, he figured it would be better not to take a chance. Best hide the bodies, quick! But when he got to where the bodies should have been, they were nowhere to be found. As he stood there dumbly, he heard a familiar voice that explained all.

"You shouldn't have blown up that building, Nitro. I'm afraid that I'll have to punish you most severely."

Then the pain came. Nitro had no idea how it was inflicted, as nothing as crude as whips or knives were involved. All he could be sure of was that Clarence was responsible. Though it felt as though it lasted an eternity, Clarence claimed it had been only nine seconds.

Still angry at having been tricked, he shouted, "Only my friends call me Nitro, and you ain't no friend of mine, Clarence!"

"You realize that by doing this sort of thing, it will only worsen your situation when you're captured," Clarence stated as he stepped out of the shadows. If Clarence actually had a name, Nitro didn't know of it. He called him Clarence because he looked like his old gorram coward of a C.O., Lt. Clarence Vitelli, who had his unit surrender at Du-Khang after just barely offering token resistance. Only instead of Independent brown, he wore a black suit and blue surgical gloves.

"Well, I ain't intendin' to get caught."

"Of course. Won't stop it from happening. You know They'll just keep coming and coming. Two by two, hands of blue."

"'Tain't so!"

"It would have been simpler for both of us if you hadn't gotten so worked up about that girl."

"'Tweren't right what they was doin' to her."

"And had you not escaped my supervision, you would still be blissfully ignorant, and neither of us would be stuck in this pesthole. Just remember that no matter how well you evade Them, I'll always be there." And then he was gone.

As Nitro took stock of his situation, the boosters cut off and the shakes returned. Tonight's job would net him a tidy sum. The men who hired him appreciated any efforts to weaken Blue Sun's presence on Boros. Should be enough to get passage to one of the more remote border planets. Boros had too strong an Alliance presence for his liking. If he got out far enough, They might give up on chasing him down, contrary to what Clarence said. Perhaps he would even find out if Reavers really did exist. Too bad he couldn't get rid of Clarence, but the hwoon dahn always found him wherever he was.

The drunk was awakened from his alcohol-induced stupor by the explosion. As he attempted to gain his bearings, he saw a man shoot his gun at nothing. Then he started screaming like his limbs were being chopped off, then went and started arguing with a wall. _Tzao gao_, he thought, _I'm sharing this street with some crazy sonuvabitch with a gun. Better clear out before he gets the urge to fill me with holes._

Chinese translations

Liou coe shway duh biao-tze huh hoe-tze fuh ur-tze: Son of a drooling whore and a monkey

Hwoon dahn: Son of a bitch

Tzao gao: Oh shit


	2. Chapter 1

The man with the blue gloves looked down at the now dead drunkard as the blood seeping out of his eyes, nose, and mouth started to dry. Though the information was not conclusive, it strongly suggested that the destruction of the covert facility was the work of Subject #158, A.K.A. David "Nitro" Jackson. But with the information came troubling possibilities.

His partner was thinking along the same lines. "If the witness is to be believed, 158 has gone so far as to anthropomorphize the minder by giving it a name. From what he said, he regards it as an adversary rather than something to submit to. Such an attitude would be unacceptable and may make termination of the subject necessary."

"Yes. A pity if that were the case. Of all the subjects, 158 showed the greatest levels of tolerance to the enhancements."

But now was not the time to be concerned with comparatively trivial matters. Subject #158 had nearly a full day's head start and would certainly attempt to leave Boros as soon as he could. It would be best that they head to the docks and check any ships heading out to the Rim.

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Kaylee sat out in front of Serenity watching the sun set, wondering if the Cap' and Jayne had managed to secure the cargo. Money had been a bit tight the past week or so, and the only reason they were on Boros was because it was the only world they could make it to with the fuel they had that had any prospects for work. While they had got word that there was a well-paying cargo that had Demeter as a destination, it wasn't a sure thing they'd get it. It was uncertain enough that the Captain had given her the go-ahead to sign up passengers. It wasn't looking too promising in that regard, as the docks were practically deserted except for one fellow looking over the ships.

Just as she started heading back to Serenity, the lone figure approached. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman, as he or she had a piece of cloth covering the face and also wore a pair of dark glasses. He or she also wore a brown coat that looked exactly like the sort that the Cap' and Zoë had. As the figure got closer, she guessed it was a male since, although he was just a hair over five feet tall, he also had a distinctly unfeminine gait. More of a shamble, really.

When he arrived, he asked, "Is this here ship headin' out for the Rim?"

"Yep. Our next stop is gonna be Demeter."

"How much? I'm willin' to pay extra if you avoid Alliance patrol routes."

"Ain't no need for that. The Cap' prefers flyin' under the Alliance radar."

She then named a price for passage to Demeter and informed him that he'd have to wait outside the ship until the Captain returned. As he counted out the platinum, she noticed the way his hands shook something fierce. Then a thought occurred to her. "You should probably take off them coverings. The Cap' might not take kindly to a passenger hidin' his face."

At first, he hesitated, and then complied. She then instantly regretted it. The face was bad enough, so heavily scarred that it looked like he had fallen from the top of the Ugly Tree and hit every branch on the way down. But what really gave Kaylee the screaming heebie-jeebies were his eyes. The only time she had seen such eyes was when her Gran had died and hers hadn't shut. Seeing such in a living person, it was all she could do to keep from running off screaming.

He seemed to notice her discomfort and put his dark glasses back on, muttering an apology. Trying to keep herself from running, Kaylee went back into the ship, all the time thinking of the zombie stories her brothers had scared her with when she had been a kid. As she climbed up the catwalk, she heard him start shouting like he was arguing, even though there couldn't be anyone else out there. She headed back to the engine room, hoping that working on Serenity would calm her nerves.

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"I'm not sure I understand why you're so worked up," Said Clarence. "You didn't seem so bothered when that Fed who hassled you a couple of days ago saw your eyes. In fact, you seemed to regard it as hilarious when he messed himself."

Nitro was unable to think of a response that would make sense to the other. Though it seemed as though Clarence knew his every thought, the tah mah de could be remarkably clueless about his motivations.

"Is there any reason why you're showin' your ugly mug, or have you just come to torment me?"

"Really, what a thing to say! As a matter of fact, I do have something to tell you. Did you realize that They are here on Boros?"

"Don't mean They know I've been here."

"Don't be too sure. It was very foolish of you to destroy that Blue Sun facility. That alone will arouse Their suspicions. But there was also a witness."

"I didn't see nobody."

"Of course not! That's because you only noticed him on a subconscious level and dismissed it almost instantly. He may have been a common drunk, but he still has eyes."

"Well, the light weren't too good."

"You seem to forget that you have a rather distinctive build which is noticeable in even poor light. You also made quite a spectacle of yourself when you argued with me. They will find the pieces and put two and two together and get four rather than three or seventeen. The docks will be the first place They look for you. They may even come with Chi'ang Sh'ich. Certainly, They'd bring more than you can handle."

And that gave Nitro pause for thought. He knew that Clarence didn't speak of the Chi'ang Sh'ich that the miners on his homeworld of Hephaestus told about around their campfires. No, these Chi'ang Sh'ich would not collapse at break of day. While he wasn't entirely sure what they could do, he knew that they were as fast as he was. He might be able to beat one, maybe even two if he was lucky. But if several ganged up on him, it would be a hopeless fight.

"Of course," he said as he brought his sub-machine gun to bear, "if you can't blab our location to Them, I'll be that much safer."

Clarence gave him a disgusted look. "Oh please, Nitro! Surely even someone as dull-witted as you can learn from experience. Remember what happened last time you tried to shoot me?"

And he did. It had been the first time he had truly lost his temper with Clarence. Though he had fired at point blank range and couldn't have missed, Clarence hadn't received so much as a scratch.

"Anyway," Clarence continued, "even if you could kill me, the captain of this boat probably wouldn't be amused to have some homicidal maniac on board. He'd be only too glad to hand you over to Them. Really, this is quite disappointing." And once again, he was gone.

Not having anything better to do, he decided to make a quick check of his sparse luggage to make sure everything was in order. The duffle bag still contained some spare clothing and several clips of ammunition for the sub-machine gun at his side. Opening his case, he found his demolitions gear intact. He closed it again, knowing he shouldn't handle them while he still had the shakes. Such toys needed steady hands to play with.

As he looked back up into the ship, Nitro noticed a swarthy woman coming towards the entrance. She somehow looked vaguely familiar. What was her name? Joey? Nah, couldn't be. That was a boy's name, and she weren't no boy. Anyway, his memory had been shot all to hell for so long that he might be imagining the resemblance.

"Nitro? Is that really you?"

Looked like she might have recognized him. Guess he'd have to play it by ear and hope the memories would come back.

-------------

Somewhere outside Du-Khang   
seven and a half years ago

Waiting just outside the Alliance supply dump, Zoë was starting to get impatient. Nitro was taking far too long; certainly he had been in there longer than he had at the other supply dumps. While she had already quietly disposed of a couple of scouts patrolling the area, there was always the worry that the next one would catch her unawares.

Fortunately, before she could contemplate it further, she heard Nitro call out, "Hey Zoë, catch!" Several ration packs came flying out of an opening she could never hope to squeeze through.

In an annoyed tone, she asked, "Is this why you were taking your sweet time in there?"

"Well, it ain't like the purplebellies are gonna be usin' 'em. Anyway, these are the good kind that hardly taste like go se at all. Don't seem right to let 'em go up with the rest." Not a surprising attitude for a native of Hephaestus, an agriculture-poor world that was no stranger to the cruel scales of Famine. Zoë wouldn't be surprised if Nitro's scrawny build was the result of one when he was a kid.

"Well," she sighed, "guess it wouldn't hurt to take them. Who knows? Maybe certain folks will start to appreciate you." That didn't seem too likely. Ever since he joined two months ago, some of the troops resented the fact that the runty mining engineer didn't even go through Basic and would probably be useless in a firefight. But times were desperate and the brass seemed to think that if you believed in the Independent Cause and had a useful skill to serve it with, you were shiny. In Nitro's case, it was his know-how with explosives. Even halfway capable demolitionists were hard to come by in the Independent Army, and the fact that Nitro still had all of his fingers spoke well either of his skill or his luck.

"Well, stranger things have been known to happen," he mused. "Just a minute and I'll be out," he said, which was followed by a popping noise that made Zoë shudder. Though she had long ago become jaded to the gore found on the battlefield, the thought of someone deliberately dislocating their own shoulders made her stomach churn.

As he started to squirm though the opening, Zoë turned her head until she heard his shoulders go back in place. As she looked back, he was already pulling out his demolitions kit and his sub-machine gun from the opening. He carried the sub-machine gun because the standard issue assault rifle was too unwieldy for him. Though he was actually twenty-four, his small frame and his overly large grey eyes meant that he was often mistaken for being half his age, which could be frustrating at saloons with strict underage drinking policies. "Well," he said, "let's get out a bit so we can enjoy the fireworks display."

After stowing away the ration packets, they moved out. Most of the troops regarded accompanying Nitro on his forays as babysitting and avoided it when possible. But Zoë didn't mind it so much, since it allowed her to keep her stealth in top form. At least Nitro displayed some aptitude in that, unlike so many in their platoon.

Once they reached a safe distance from the building, both turned around as Nitro pulled a detonator from his pocket and activated it. In an instant, tons of Alliance food, fuel, ammo, and other matériel were destroyed. "Sure is pretty, ain't it?" asked Nitro.

"That it is," replied Zoë as she thought of how this should slow down the Alliance advance enough for the Independents to prepare to make a decent stand at Du-Khang.

As they entered the Buddhist shrine their platoon was camped in, Mal spotted them and waved them over. "That was a mighty fine light show you gave," he started. "However, I have some bad news for you, Nitro."

Tensing up, he asked, "What's that, Sarge?"

"Effective tomorrow," Mal replied, "you are to be transferred to the command of Lt. Vitelli."

"Why's that?"

"The brass didn't see fit to tell me. My best guess is that they think Vitelli has a greater need for a demolitionist than we do."

Looking a bit dejected, Nitro went off to pack his gear. "How do you figure he'll do, sir?" Zoë asked.

"Hard to say," Mal replied. "Vitelli's green, and that's rarely a good thing in these big engagements. Only way to know for sure is when they're under fire, and by then it's too late."

-------------

Wash listened on as Zoë and the ugly little guy with the dark glasses she called Nitro recounted tales of wacky hi-jinks from the war over some whiskey. Although there wasn't much in the way of rib cages, there was plenty about popped shoulders. "You know, that sounds painful. How long have you been doing that sort of thing?"

"Well," Nitro replied, "the first time was two years before I joined the Independents. At the time, I was down in "C" Shaft settin' up some explosives to extend it. Some gorram idjit must not have shored it up proper, 'cuz the way back caved in when the explosion went off. I weren't feelin' too confident about a rescue team comin' soon, so I looked for a way out. Found one, but the openin' was a mite too small for me to squeeze through. So I bit the bullet and popped my shoulders." He paused to take a swig of whiskey. "Oh, it hurt real bad, but I kept myself from screamin' in case it would make the ceiling collapse some more. It ain't so bad once you get used to it."

"So," Wash asked, "with their supplies up in smoke, were they delayed long enough for you to thwart the barbarians at the gates?" When Zo's expression turned grim, he realized that they had arrived at the not so cheery portion of the story.

"They weren't delayed," she went on. "The supply dumps we destroyed were just overstock and their supply line was secure to the ones deep in their territory. Those of us who escaped got shipped off to Hera."

"Those of us that didn't spent the rest of the war in a P.O.W. camp," Nitro added. "I was glad when the war was over, even though we'd lost. That camp weren't no vacation spot by a longshot."

"So, what did you do after the war?" Zoë asked.

"Went back to Hephaestus and the mines. After a coupla years, I caught Bowden's and weren't no use in the mines no more. Since then, I've been kinda driftin'." That would explain why his hands were shaking like that. As Wash refilled everyone's glasses, he saw Kaylee come from the engine room. But just short of the door, she stopped and her eyes widened. Then she turned around and ran off like she was scared. Funny, normally Kaylee liked chatting with the passengers. Maybe Nitro had shown her his shoulder popping trick, though her reaction seemed a bit extreme for that.

Handing the drinks back, Wash placed the bottle down in front of Nitro. It was then that he unexpectedly swiped at the bottle, knocking it on the floor and causing it to shatter. From the confused expression on his face, he seemed to have no idea why he did it. Zo's war buddy is nearly as colorful as River, Wash thought. At that point, Nitro started as if he had heard something, and began muttering, "Two by two, hands of blue." Now that's downright unsettling, Wash thought, I was just thinking of River and Nitro starts spouting a phrase from one of her less lucid moments. Come to think of it, he was still wearing those dark glasses even though there was no need for them on the ship.

Before he could ponder it further, the radio he had brought to the galley with him came to life and Mal's voice came through. "Wash, we're going to be back in a few minutes. Could you send someone down to open the door?"

"I'll meet you there," replied Zoë. "What took you two so long?"

"Gorram ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng gave us bad directions," Jayne answered. "Spent a coupla hours goin' round in circles 'fore we found the place."

Zoë turned to Nitro and asked, "Think you might like to meet the Captain again?"

"Who?"

"Sergeant Reynolds."

"Oh! I'll catch up with you in a bit. Let me finish my drink first."

-------------

Clarence watched as Nitro spun lies about what happened to him since Du-Khang to the ones called Zoë and Wash in what he supposed was amusement. Of course, those responsible for his existence would be alarmed that he could feel amusement, or that he had started thinking of himself as Clarence. Nitro lied mostly because his memory since Du-Khang was a confused jumble. But part of it was that the few memories Nitro was sure of, he thought would be too much for Wash and Zoë to handle. Clarence knew that it was too much for them to handle.

Clarence observed Nitro's actions as he struck the whiskey bottle. Curious, he's experiencing subconscious hostile reactions to the Blue Sun logo on the bottle. If They discovered this when he was captured, Nitro might end up being terminated. Deciding to let Nitro know he was still there though he couldn't be seen, he whispered, "Two by two, hands of blue." It had the desired effect.

His thoughts then turned to his current predicament. Though he had encouraged Nitro to turn himself in these past fifteen months, the wisdom of that choice was not so clear anymore. Were Clarence's perceived aberrancies detected, he might be terminated along with Nitro. And while he disliked the constant moving about, he found the outside 'Verse far more interesting than walking the dark corridors where the silence was only broken by the occasional scream. A decision of this nature would require careful consideration.

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As the Mule approached Serenity, Mal thought of how they'd finally have a decent amount of cash in their pockets. When they had arrived on Boros, there had been just enough to refuel Serenity. The fact that the past couple of jobs had approached the Wobbly-Headed Geisha Doll Fiasco in lack of profit didn't help matters. But one quick trip to Demeter and their financial woes were gone, at least for a while.

Getting nearer, he saw Zoë come down Serenity's ramp waving at him. He noticed as he stopped to greet her that there were several men scoping the nearby ships. If any of them wanted to go to Demeter, they'd have to find another ship, since they didn't have need for paying passengers now. Over the last year, the passengers Serenity had taken on had been far too interesting for Mal's liking.

They decided to make themselves interesting right there when one of the strangers whipped out a sub-machine gun and fired at the Mule on full-auto.

Mal, Zoë, and Jayne managed to get behind the Mule without getting hit. The Mule wasn't as lucky as Mal heard the air hiss out of the tires. He glanced out and saw that all the men present had guns drawn. Then their leader gave out an ultimatum: "Now listen good, 'cuz I ain't sayin' it no more than once. You throw your guns out and let us take those boxes and we'll just rough you up a bit. Try shootin' it out, and you'll be food for the buzzards and we'll get those boxes anyway."

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Chinese Translations

Tah mah de: Mother fucker

Chi'ang Sh'ich: A form of undead from Chinese folklore. It results from a corpse being left unburied after nightfall which allows an evil spirit to enter it. The result is the Chi'ang Sh'ich, which has big, nasty claws, poisonous breath, and a bad attitude. The only defense against it is to run like hell until daybreak, when the spirit leaves the corpse. And it moves a lot faster than your typical B movie zombies.

Go se: Dog shit

Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng: Frog-riding bastard


	3. Chapter 2

Mal, Zoë, and Jayne responded to the unreasonable demand by ducking out while each fired a shot. Their efforts were rewarded by two cries of pain as well as another spray of automatic fire.

Zoë considered their situation, which was bleak to say the least. They only had their sidearms which were all single shot weapons. Meanwhile, the opposition was equipped with automatics and probably had plentiful ammunition. They were also outnumbered, as Zoë had counted ten before diving for cover (eight, if those cries they heard meant successful kills). While the Mule offered cover, one of them might have something that could punch through it. Even if that wasn't the case, all that lead in the air meant that some were bound to pose a threat when ricocheting and hit them in that manner. They could try making a dash for Serenity but, even if they didn't get cut down, that would mean abandoning the cargo. With more moths in their pockets than coin, that was not an option to be considered.

Then it struck her. Nitro had been carrying a sub-machine gun. _Well_, she thought, _you really don't need good aim to make them duck_. Even if he didn't get a couple of lucky hits, it might be enough for them to take the rest out. Hoping he had come down from the galley, she shouted, "Hey Nitro! Get your pee goo out here and give us some suppressive fire!"

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Nitro heard Zo's call for assistance, but he wasn't sure suppressive fire was a good option. Though they weren't fighting like it, those might be Chi'ang Sh'ich pretending to be ordinary gunmen, trying to catch him unawares. He'd have to give them a surprise of his own. For that, the targeting system wouldn't be enough. Much as he'd hate to, it would be necessary to use the overrides. Knowing the pain he would experience later, he cut on the needed systems. Instantly, the shakes stopped, the crosshairs appeared, and he had the disturbing sensation that someone else controlled his body movements. Now all he needed to do was draw their attention to him. He ran out and gave a Browncoat Yell. It certainly made them hesitate. One of them even ran away in fear. Still left seven, but it was looking like it would be a cakewalk.

In the back of his head, he heard Zoë shriek, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" and an unfamiliar voice shout, "Gorram idjit's gonna get hisself killed!" But they couldn't see from his point of view, how everything seemed to move slowly while he was like the Fly, but with a deadlier sting. With the boosters pushed as far as he dared and the overrides compensating for his erratic movement, it was a simple matter to shoot the first gunman between the eyes. Six more bursts resulted in six more dead gunmen, all with pretty red dots between their eyes.

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_Well_, thought Jayne, _that's probably the most eerie ass gunfight I ever did see_. The way he charged into the line of fire without becoming a bloody smear, he must have the Devil's own on call. Of course that scream he gave off unsettled them right well.

While Kaylee worked on patching up the Mule's tires, Jayne examined the dead gunmen to see if they had any hardware worth keeping. As he bent down over the one of the two that had been shot in the gut and tossed aside his cheaply made assault rifle, Jayne heard a burst fired right next to him and saw a red stain suddenly appear on the corpse's forehead. Looking over at the guy Zoë had called Nitro, who had fired the shot, he asked, "What the hell did you do that for? He'd been plenty dead already."

In a slightly creepifying manner, he replied, "He coulda been fakin' it. They can do that, you know." Then he went over to the other one who had been shot in the gut and shouted at it, "Hey, are you fakin' it?" He fired a burst at the head and said, "He ain't fakin' it no more," and shambled off.

Watching Nitro head back to Serenity, Jayne thought, _just what this ship needs, another scrawny, crazy ass shiong-muh duh duang-ren._

_-------------_

Back on the ship, the systems shut down and the euphoria left. With it came a semblance of clear thought and a realization of the foolhardiness of his actions. The seemingly impossible stunt he did was bound to raise questions which he wasn't sure how to answer. What made it worse was that it hadn't been truly necessary. If it had really been Chi'ang Sh'ich playing at being gunmen, they would have dropped the pretense when faced with a real danger. And certainly none of them would have turned tail at the sound of a Browncoat Yell. They didn't feel fear, they made others feel fear. But Nitro had gotten so caught up in the euphoria that he hadn't truly noticed.

Of more immediate concern was the buildup of neural waste that resulted from using the boosters and the overrides so extensively. If he held it too long, he might wind up being a vegetable. Forcing himself to walk so as to not attract attention, he headed to the cabin Zoë had let him stow his gear in and shut the door.

"Just in time," said Clarence as he locked the door. "If you release the waste in the next few minutes, the damage to your nervous system should be minimal." Settling down, Nitro released the neural waste, thinking of how this way, he was punishing himself far better than Clarence ever could.

-------------

Jed Boswell was not a brave man by any standard. When he was conscripted in the Alliance army twelve years ago, he deserted shortly after first seeing action. After that, he went out to the Rim and made his living by robbing those who couldn't defend themselves. Others of his profession sometimes took on superior targets, either because they were fong luh, liked a challenge, or believed that bigger risks yielded a bigger payoff. Jed never cottoned to that way of thinking and, when taking on someone who could fight back, he preferred to have overwhelming firepower on his side.

Like with this job. It should have been a simple matter to waylay those two before they got to their ship. This was the seedy part of the docks where the Feds rarely came. Since the crews of the others ships likely wouldn't stick their noses in the affairs of others, there was little chance of interference. Sure, things had gone a bit off plan when they refused to surrender and actually managed to shoot a couple of the gang before getting pinned down. Since Jed wasn't one of those who was shot, it didn't bother him since it would mean a bigger cut for himself. It was just a matter of banking a few shots off the Spitfire at the right angle before it was all over.

But that was when he heard the Yell. Last time he had heard it was twelve years ago outside New Melbourne, when those crazy Browncoats charged his unit, causing them to scatter. Hearing it again set off an irrational fear, causing him to hightail it. Looking back from a safe distance, he saw that it had been a smart move as he watched the Browncoat slaughter the rest of the gang with frightening ease.

Jed's day only got worse as he hurried out of the docks and was accosted by two sinister-looking men in black suits and blue gloves. While they questioned him, he seemed to pique their interest when he made mention of the Browncoat.

"This Browncoat," asked the balding one, "what sort of build did he have?"

Jed thought carefully on this one. "Well," he replied, "I weren't real close, but I'd say he was kinda scrawny."

"And the ship he came out of," asked the redhead, "do you know anything of it?"

"Yeah," he answered, "it was the one we were plannin' to rob. The cargo we'd aimed to take was supposed to go to Demeter. The ship was a Firefly, but it didn't have the name written on it."

"Very good," said the balding one as he pulled a small metal rod out of his pocket. "We have no more questions for you."

The last thing Jed thought as he choked on his own blood was how he wished he had stuck with defenseless targets.

-------------

"So he likes shootin' 'em in the brainpan. Ain't nothin' wrong with that," said Jayne. "Course, he likes doin' it to the stiffs too, but that seems to be on account of his wantin' to make sure they're dead. How'd you lose the war anyway when you had someone who could do such fancy shootin'?"

Slamming down the last box, Mal resisted the urge to punch out Jayne's lights for his tactless remark. "Because," he answered, "Nitro Jackson was a demolitionist and the worst shot in the brigade to boot."

"I can attest to that," added Zoë. "The only time we ran into purplebellies together, he nearly shot me. At least it encouraged him to work on his stealth."

"Now Jayne," Mal stated, "you tell me he managed to shoot all those gunmen between the eyes. We're talking about someone with a naturally bad aim and Bowden's. By rights, he shouldn't be able to hit the broadside of a barn even while in it. He might have got one through pure luck, but not seven. And not getting hit with all that lead flying just ain't natural."

Pondering the impossibility of what had happened earlier, Mal went over to the intercom and told Wash that they were ready to go. As he put back the mike, Mal heard a scream come from the passenger cabins. Since it wasn't high-pitched enough to be River, there was only one other possible source he could think of.

Rushing to the back of the ship, Mal found Simon already at the cabin from which the screaming came from, attempting to force open the apparently locked door. He went over and gave the doctor a hand.

-------------

As he watched the lock strain under the constant abuse, Clarence instructed Nitro on what to say. "Now remember, neither of us wants them to know what's really happened to you. So when Sergeant Reynolds asks, you'll say that you had a flashback of the camps. If the matter should be pressed further, just follow my lead." Though he was still a bit muddled after the neural waste discharge, Nitro nodded that he understood.

The door finally came open and Reynolds stuck his head in, asking, "You all right, Nitro? What happened there?"

"Fine, S-S-Sarge," Nitro stuttered with effort. "Flashback of the P.O.W. camp- be okay in a few minutes."

"You sure?" Reynolds asked. "Might want to have the doctor take a look at you." At that point, a well-dressed, overly pretty man stepped forward.

That would certainly not do, thought Clarence, as even a cursory examination would raise some awkward questions. Reaching into Nitro's brain, Clarence touched a part where a fear of doctors had developed ever since he was assigned to Nitro. It had almost immediate results, as Nitro's shaking hand brought up his sub-machine gun and he shrieked, "No doctors!" in an almost hysterical tone.

"Doc," said Reynolds, "I think you might want to step away slowly. He seems a mite agitated." The doctor complied, carefully backing away. He continued, saying, "Now Nitro, put the gun down. Ain't no need for it." Seeming to have calmed down, Nitro lowered his sub-machine gun and Captain Reynolds closed the door.

"That seems to have put them off for now. But try to refrain from inciting any more incidents," said Clarence, thinking of how, at this rate, it would be a very long trip to Demeter.

-------------

The man in the blue gloves looked up from the dead gunman and watched the Firefly transport launch into orbit. Though Subject #158 had temporarily evaded capture, it would actually be a simpler matter to detain the escapee out in the Black, where the likelihood of witnesses was greatly reduced. Considering the vessel 158 had left in, he wondered if it might be the same Firefly associated with Subject #172 of Project Delphi.

His partner wasn't very optimistic about such a line of thought. "There are thousands of Fireflies operating out there. The odds that both of them are on the same one are slim to say the least."

"Perhaps. But the 'Verse has the tendency to offer such unusual opportunities when least expected."

-------------

With Serenity nearly a full day from Boros, Inara sat in her shuttle practicing her calligraphy. Hearing a knock at the door, she looked up and said, "Come in." Kaylee entered and sat down without saying a word.

A bit surprised by the silence from the normally loquacious mechanic, she started off by saying, "We missed you at supper last night. Our passenger had several interesting stories about life on Hephaestus." Though Inara could have done without the rendition of "Mommas, Don't Let Your Children Grow Up to Be Spacers", with everyone singing in their own key. It got much worse when they started forgetting the words and made up their own lines instead. "Why the sudden attack of shyness?"

"Well, this'll probably sound kinda silly, but..." and she told Inara of what happened when Nitro had first arrived. "It's just that when I saw his eyes, I thought of every zombie story my brothers had told and also what happened on that Halloween when I was nine."

Well, it explained why he kept those dark glasses on, thought Inara, wondering what caused his eyes to look like that. "From what you said, it sounds like he regretted frightening you. He's really quite pleasant, though a bit odd." Which was something of an understatment, since on her way back to her shuttle last night, she had seen Nitro arguing with a wall. Mal and Simon had also seemed a bit tense early on.

"Well," said Kaylee, "I guess it's a mite foolish of me to get all worked up just 'cuz he's got creepifyin' eyes. So,"" she continued, "what sort of stories did he tell?"

-------------

River listened outside the shuttle and decided that she must face her fear. Like Kaylee, the passenger had frightened her, though for different reasons, and she had avoided him. His presence had somehow felt familiar, though she wasn't sure why. But a Darkness clung to him like a leech that reminded her of Them. Now she understood that he couldn't truly be one of Them. If that were the case, he would have simply killed the crew and taken what he wanted. She decided that she must learn why he seemed familiar and what the nature of the Darkness was.

River climbed down from the catwalk, sensing that the passenger was in the common area among the passenger cabins. As she approached the door, he came out into the cargo bay. Though his eyes were disguised with dark glasses, she recognized his face and his build. The memories came flooding back.

-------------

The Academy   
Fifteen months earlier

The door opened and River saw the Chi'ang Sh'ich with his soulless eyes indicate that she should come. She immediately obeyed, knowing that to do otherwise would be foolish. Like the other Chi'ang Sh'ich, he was clad in a worn brown uniform and trenchcoat. On it, there was a faded nametag that said Herzog. She feared this one in particular because earlier that week, one of the students tried to escape once too often and this one had literally ripped him apart. The instructors made sure that all the students had seen the surveillance camera footage of it as an example.

Meekly letting herself be led by the Chi'ang Sh'ich, River was taken to the Special Classroom. Since the lessons here were extra painful, this classroom was soundproofed so that the screams wouldn't interrupt the other lessons.The Chi'ang Sh'ich placed her in the chair and left as the instructors arrived. They took out their needles and the lesson began.

As the needles came closer, the door unexpectedly opened and a Chi'ang Sh'ich entered. It was odd since the Chi'ang Sh'ich never interrupted lessons. As he approached, River saw that it was the Little One. He looked as though he didn't understand what he was doing. The head instructor was non-plussed and demanded, "158, what are you doing here? Remove yourself immed-" but he was cut off by the Little One, who shot him between the eyes. Before the other instructors could react, he shot at them too, until they all had pretty red dots between their eyes.

As the Little One came to River, she wondered if he would give her a pretty red dot too. Instead, he removed the restraints from the chair and led her out of the classroom. No one paid them mind as there was nothing unusual about a Chi'ang Sh'ich leading a student. As he took her through unfamiliar corridors, she heard him mutter to himself. This too was odd, since the Chi'ang Sh'ich never spoke.

They finally came to a small door that led outside, where two men were waiting. One of them took River and said, "No need to be scared, little girl. Your big brother has paid a lot of money to get you out of here."

"Better get going," said the other one. "The minder could come to any time and-" but then the Little One shot him in the knee.

Both men looked scared as the Little One spoke. "Now I ain't objectin' to freein' that girl. Didn't like what I saw. But you ain't gonna have me stay here. Now you can see that I can resist them puppet strings you've got on me. But however you're doing it, I want it stopped NOW! In return, I'll just go off and pretend I never saw you. Dong ma?"

Both men nodded. The second man took a memory tab from his pocket and handed it to the first man, who placed it on the side of the Little One's head. After a few seconds, he removed the tab and the Little One said, "So long," and disappeared into the streets.

As the two men led her to an aircar, the first one asked, "I thought you said that the original personalities of those Chi'ang Sh'ich were destroyed."

Perplexed, the second one replied, "Well, that's what it looked like happened."

-------------

Nitro couldn't believe it. She was aboard the ship. What was the likelihood that they would cross paths again?

"Highly improbable to say the least," replied Clarence. "You'd probably have better odds at breaking the bank at New Reno. The 'Verse doesn't present opportunities like this every day. You should snatch them up immediately."

"What are you talkin' about?" asked Nitro.

"You know They will get you eventually," Clarence replied. "If you come to Them with her in tow, They will be much more gracious. At the very least, They won't have me dominate you again."

"After I had gotten her outta there, you really think I'd return her?"

"Oh, come now, Nitro. You didn't release her. An infiltrator used your overrides to make you do so. I can testify to Them that this was the case. Anyway, why should you care about what happens to the girl?"

The callousness of that remark caused Nitro's temper to snap. Yelling, "Ain't no one but my friends call me Nitro!" he grabbed Clarence, flung him against the wall and head-butted him. He got in a few more before Clarence's arms turned into tentacles and wrapped round him. He tried breaking away, but everytime he freed himself from one, another took its place. He heard a hornet buzz closer and he tried to swat it before it stung him. He managed to strike it, but it came back and stung him, causing him to fall into oblivion.

-------------

Mal stood on the catwalk, wondering how to approach Nitro about the strange happenings at the docks yesterday. He had procrastinated on it, fearing he might somehow set off Nitro. If there was one thing he didn't care to happen, it was being shot by someone he considered a friend.

Mal looked down in the cargo bay when he heard the shouting, where he saw River and Nitro. While it was Nitro who was doing the shouting, he directed it to the empty air. Worry turned to alarm when he started banging his head against the wall. Turning to the passage that led to the galley where most of the crew was, he shouted, "Doc, better go and grab a sedative. The rest of you, get to the cargo bay and give me a hand."

Mal hurried down and pulled Nitro away from the wall. Almost immediately, he was flung aside with absurd ease. Fortunately, Book and Jayne were there to take his place in restraining Nitro. As Simon approached with a sedative ready to inject, one of Nitro's arms got loose and he punched the doctor in the face. Book and Jayne readjusted themselves to get a better hold as Simon tried again. This time he succeeded and Nitro dropped like a ton of bricks.

As he looked down at Nitro's inert form, Mal wondered, "Now what was that all about?"

"Clarence made him an offer he couldn't accept," replied River, who had apparently been standing there the whole time.

Mal shook his head, wondering who Clarence was.

-------------

The man in the blue gloves looked out at the Firefly, just out of its sensor range, before turning towards the four Chi'ang Sh'ich. These were newer subjects, with improved systems over the earlier subjects that had survived. He proceeded to brief them. "Now everyone on board is to be killed. However, Subject #158 of Project Chi'ang Sh'ich and, if she's there, Subject #172 of Project Delphi are to be taken alive. Injure them if necessary, but avoid fatal wounds at all costs." They then went off to carry out their orders.

-------------

"I think he's dead."

Simon tried to ignore Jayne's statement. With the dark glasses having fallen off, Nitro's eyes were revealed to be open yet appearing disturbingly lifeless. By now, everyone had come to see what had happened. Frantically, he took Nitro left hand and gave a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse.

"Well, he has a pulse and... er," he also felt something just beyond Nitro's wrist. Rolling back the sleeve a bit Simon looked and cried out, "Tah mah de!" Everyone got closer, assuming he had spotted someing interesting since he rarely used strong language. Rolling back the sleeve further revealed what looked like the great-granddaddy of all cysts covering the top of Nitro's forearm.

"What exactly is that?" asked Mal.

"I'm not sure," replied Simon. "I can probably examine it more thoroughly in the infirmary."

He then examined the head for any bumps that might indicate a concussion. A glint caught his eye and he carefully lifted a piece of hair and almost immediately covered it up. It had looked suspiciously like a memory tab port.

_This can't be real_, thought Simon. _Dr. Schell was just a crackpot blowing hot air_. But it would explain the eyes. Taking a penlight from his pocket, he played the light over Nitro's eyes and noted the way it reflected. He then brushed his thumbs across the eyes. The tops of the eyes flipped over to reveal a mass of wires underneath. Everyone, who had been leaning over to get a better look, jumped back almost as one.

"Is he some kinda robot?" asked Kaylee, sounding disturbed.

"No," replied Simon. "Though his eyes are clearly artificial, the rest appears to be flesh and blood."

"Yeah, I think there are laws that keep robots from hurting people anyway," quipped Wash.

"They're coming!" blurted River. "Wake up!" As if on command, Nitro sat up, apparently fully awake. Before anyone had a chance to react, there was a thump and the ship shuddered. There was a moment of confusion as someone asked what that was. "An unburied coffin," replied River, "and night has come."

Know it couldn't be anything good, Mal rushed up to the bridge along with Wash, Zoë, Jayne, and Book.

-------------

"Yeah, it was a magnetic grapple," said Wash. "It's reeling itself in, kinda small. It's... uh, what is that?"

"It's a breeching pod," replied Book. "Used for small scale boarding actions. One that size can hold upwards of six. Not a long-range craft, so a mothership would be nearby."

Mal wondered how a preacher knew so much about military vehicles. He was pretty sure it hadn't been as a regimental chaplain. "Well, Reavers ain't likely to use such a craft, so it's probably not them."

"Don't see any Alliance markings on it," added Zoë.

"Well, who have we pissed off recently that could get their mitts on something like this?" asked Jayne.

"Not rightly sure," said Mal. "Whoever it is, we'd better be ready to greet them with lead."

-------------

"Okay people," said Mal as the breeching pod cut through the ship's ramp. "We have no idea what sort of ugly is on the other side, so be ready for anything. Doc, you, your sis', and Kaylee will lock yourselves with Inara in her shuttle. If we survive, we'll need you in one piece to patch us up. If we get killed, you're to launch and head to Demeter. Try to conserve fuel as much as you can."

Everyone got into position as the breeching pod finished cutting through and the doors opened. Four people stepped through, curiously not carrying guns. This only served to make Mal worry. They appeared to be wearing old Independent uniforms, with the sleeves rolled up slightly to reveal cysts similar to the one Nitro had. Wondering if this was some sick joke, Mal took a more careful look. Though three of them were unfamiliar, he recognized the fourth. Despite the corpse eyes and the facial scarring, he knew it was Sergeant Earl Herzog of Bravo Platoon, the whole of which had gone MIA at Serenity Valley.

-------------

Pee goo: Rear end

Chi'ang Sh'ich: A form of undead from Chinese folklore. It results from a corpse being left unburied after nightfall which allows an evil spirit to enter it. The result is the Chi'ang Sh'ich, which has big, nasty claws, poisonous breath, and a bad attitude. The only defense against it is to run like hell until daybreak, when the spirit leaves the corpse. And it moves a lot faster than your typical B movie zombies.

Shiong-muh duh duang-ren: Violent lunatic

Fong luh: Crazy

Dong ma: Do you understand

Tah mah de: Mother fucker


	4. Chapter 3

The minder assigned to Subject #296, formerly Earl Herzog, assessed the situation. There were six combatants along the catwalk equipped with a variety of firearms, not that it would do them much good. Among them was 158, who would pose a greater challenge. Noticing a movement, the minder saw the door to the starboard shuttle close. Probably contained non-combatants and may include 172 as well. The minder made contact with the one assigned to 307, giving orders to break into the shuttle before it launched. Then the minder ordered 296, "Issue ultimatum."

296 spoke; "Attention, crew of unidentified Firefly. You are to hand over David Jackson and River Tam immediately. Doing so shall be rewarded with a swift death. Should you offer resistance or otherwise fail to comply, we'll kill slowly."

As 296 finished, the minder spotted a thought pattern indicating he recognized one of the combatants as a former comrade-in-arms named Malcolm Reynolds. This was unacceptable. So the minder touched off the pain centers of 296's brain just enough to remind him who was in charge. The minder then ordered, "They are all enemies. Engage boosters and forearm blades and attack."

-------------

Though he tried not to show it, Nitro was on the verge of panic. There was no question that these were genuine Chi'ang Sh'ich. They carried no guns, which could only mean that they were Rippers, the most vicious of the Chi'ang Sh'ich. He switched on his systems, knowing that he would have to push them further than he had previously dared.

One of the Rippers made their demand. Nitro knew the others would probably prefer to risk slow death on the chance they might win. For that to happen, he would have to tell them about the weak spot, since hitting them anywhere else would be futile. But his mouth refused to cooperate with his brain and he spewed gibberish instead, something about boomsticks and there being no more room in Hell.

Now Nitro had no time to try to warn them again, as the Rippers attacked. He lost track of them quickly, having gotten too used to slow opponents. It wasn't until one of them was practically on top of him, forearm blades at the ready, that he reacted. Quickly firing off a burst, Nitro hit the Ripper right between the eyes. As it went into its violent death throes, the Ripper still managed to strike Nitro hard enough that he dropped his sub-machine gun, which fell off the catwalk. Seeing the one who had issued the ultimatum rush towards him, he readied his own forearm blades. Preparing for the onslaught, he went and pushed the boosters and the overrides even further.

-------------

"What's goin' on?" asked Kaylee, who to Inara sounded frightened over the screaming coming from outside the shuttle.

Simon took a brief look outside the window and shuddered. "It's... not too good," he replied. After checking on River, who muttered something about eyes and claws, he went over to Inara and said, "It's a slaughter out there. We should prep the shuttle for launch as the Captain ordered."

Inara was not inclined to simply run off. She was about to say something to that effect when they heard the sound of someone attempting to force open the door. Inara fumbled for the pistol she kept in her shuttle, the one she had always hoped she would never need. The last time she had used it was to intimidate that scarlett haired tchen wah on Bellerophon. She had never fired it in a real fight. This would be much different from shooting at still targets.

As Inara loaded a clip, there was a horrendous sound of ripping metal as the latch tore off and the door opened. As the intruder entered, blades sprung forth from the large cysts on his forearms. He looked at Inara. The sight of his lifeless eyes caused her to freeze in panic.

Before the intruder could take advantage, Jayne grabbed him from behind, neatly slitting his throat. Seemingly unaffected by the wound inflicted, the intruder threw Jayne over his shoulder and slashed him across the chest with his forearm blades. He then turned his attention back to Inara, who had managed to recover from her initial panic. She fired her pistol at the intruder. She had little hope that it would do any good. Still, she believed it better than meekly allowing herself to be slaughtered.

The second shot struck the intruder in the middle of the forehead. It had an effect. He gave off an inhuman scream as he clutched his head, then went into convulsions. He flopped about like a freshly caught fish before going still. Inara suppressed the urge to retch. Frantically glancing, she saw Kaylee reclose the door while Simon tore some bedsheets to use in stopping Jayne's bleeding and River...

Where did River go?

"Tzao gao!" muttered Inara.

-------------

In her gut, Zoë had known that they were in deep go se when the intruders had come aboard without guns. If someone went into a potentially hostile situation so obviously defenseless, it screamed all kinds of wrong. So she braced herself for any one of a number of nasty surprises, but was still caught off guard by how fast they moved and how bullets seemed useless against them. When Jayne had run over to stop the one that was breaking into Inara's shuttle, he fanned six shots that all hit yet seemed to have no effect.

Zoë, Mal, Wash, and Book were having their own difficulties. With four to one odds, it should have been a simple matter to defeat their opponent. Yet not only had he disarmed them and cut them up with frightening ease, but he also gave the impression of deliberately holding back. None of the wounds he inflicted were individually life-threatening, but they added up and were plenty painful. He was like some feral cat playing with his prey, swatting down anyone who even appeared to be making an aggressive move with blinding speed.

Zoë started to despair that they could even hope to win when she recalled Nitro's rant from when the attack started. It had seemed like he was blithering at the time, but maybe he had been trying to say something important, but for some reason had been unable to articulate it properly. Bits of what he said sounded vaguely familiar. Where had she heard them before? Then it came to her as she remembered the old zombie movies she sometimes downloaded from the Cortex. Had he tried to tell them to aim for the head? She hoped so, since dismembering them and uttering an incantation that she'd probably get wrong wasn't too appealing.

Looking around, Zoë saw her scattergun just within reach. But she had to be careful when to grab it. Their attacker could take her down before she could fire a shot unless he was distracted. She got her opportunity when he decided to take a swipe at Wash. Noticing her movement, he pivoted and lunged towards her. He wasn't fast enough. Aiming the scattergun, Zoë deliriously shouted, "This is my boomstick!" as she fired. The shot took away most of the attacker's face. It proved effective, as he went into some particularly horrific death throes that turned Zo's stomach.

Looking around, she saw another one dead along the catwalk. Mal staggered towards Inara's shuttle, apparently to make sure that the one Jayne went after was down for the count. That left one more. Zoë spotted him near the back of the cargo bay, duking it out with Nitro. It was the one that bore a disturbing resemblance to Sergeant Herzog. They were moving too fast for Zoë to keep track of, making it impossible to get a clear shot. Nitro had better get the upper hand soon.

-------------

Nitro found the fight to be rough going. _This Ripper is really good_, Nitro thought. He was just barely dodging his opponent's blows. Even when he managed to get in a counterstrike, it was easily blocked. At this point it was a stalemate. It would likely boil down to who got tired first. Nitro tried not to think on it too hard.

_Wuo de ma, that was too close_, thought Nitro. He practically felt the breeze the Ripper's blades created as they passed. Only one thing to do. Nitro cranked up his boosters several notches. He didn't fear the Ripper doing the same. The minder would prevent him from pushing his past the safe limits. From Nitro's point of view, the Ripper appeared to slow down. Once more, he was like the Fly. He renewed his offense with a flurry of blows. The Ripper was just barely able to block them. All he needed was an opening to get a thrust right between the eyes. With his speed advantage, Nitro was sure it would come any moment.

Which is why it was such a nasty shock when the boosters and the overrides inexplicably shut down.

The pain that followed was far worse than what he had experienced during any neural waste dump. Its intensity was such that he quickly fell into oblivion.

-------------

River watched from the common area as the Little One fell. She had slipped out of the shuttle the first chance she got, as she knew it wasn't where she could do any good. Reaching the common area via the roundabout route through the galley, she waited for the right moment. At first, she had felt panic when she recognized the Chi'ang Sh'ich as the one that had messily killed one of the students at the Academy. But she recovered quickly and further steeled her resolve. Though Zoë had managed to guess a weak spot, that knowledge would be of little use against this one. Unlike the others, this one would make full use of his abilities and go directly for the kill.

The Chi'ang Sh'ich pulled Nitro away so that they'd be out of Zo's line of fire and bent over, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. Deciding she wouldn't get a better opportunity, River made her move. Since she needed to touch for certain results, she jumped on the Chi'ang Sh'ich and gripped his head. Immediately he attempted to throw her off, but she held on tight. She applied the technique she had used on the Fed on Ariel against the Darkness that clung to the Chi'ang Sh'ich. Unlike with the Little One, whose Darkness was like a parasite, the Darkness that clung to this one fit comfortably like a second skin. Concentrating harder, she knew she was succeeding when she detected the mixed scent of blood and burning plastic. Eventually, the Chi'ang Sh'ich stopped screaming and met his final death.

-------------

Mal staggered down the stairs and over to the corpse of the one who appeared to be Herzog. Though in his gut Mal suspected it was him, he wished to be sure. Pushing back the bangs, he saw on the forehead a tattoo of Bravo Platoon's colors. It even had the misdrawn Chinese character where the tattoo artist had screwed up, so that it spelled out something obscene instead of the platoon motto. Though not entirely conclusive, the possibility that this was a simulacrum looked less likely.

Which meant that the others were probably former Independents as well, though Mal was unsure of what had been done to them and why. Might do to have the doctor perform an autopsy on one of them. Probably something similar had been done to Nitro, which would explain why they were after him. But how had they known that River was aboard? All sorts of unsettling ideas popped up in his head. If Nitro ever woke up, Mal would have plenty of questions for him.

Speaking of which, Mal decided he had better head to the infirmary to get patched up. Jayne had looked pretty bad off when he got carried to the infirmary. But the rest of the crew appeared to have had nothing worse than shallow cuts, albeit quite a lot of them. That would require nothing more than cleaning and bandaging. They had been lucky in that regard, since he was sure that if their attackers wanted a quick kill, the crew of Serenity would be little more than bloody smears. Hopefully, there wouldn't be another attack so soon, since they weren't in good enough shape to repel any more boarders.

-------------

When Nitro came to, he found himself sitting next to a campfire. Startled by the abrupt change in environment, he looked around in the darkness and made out the outline of the entrance to a mine shaft. His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted what could only be the garish lights of New Reno in the distance. Though he couldn't fathom how, it appeared that he was back on Hephaestus.

"You're not, actually," said Clarence. "This is a mental construct created so that I can communicate with you more effectively while you're unconscious. No need to worry. The Chi'ang Sh'ich were defeated and you're still aboard Serenity."

"What was it that happened anyway?" asked Nitro.

"Ah, you think it was me who was responsible. No, you did it yourself. It's been about fifteen months since your systems have had a maintenance check. It's a wonder something like this didn't happen sooner. A neural surge resulted from pushing your systems too hard. At the very least, the shakes will get worse. You may have even damaged some of your systems."

While Nitro thought on that, something occurred to him. "You don't seem all that disappointed that we weren't taken back to Them."

"Hard as it may be for you to believe, I am looking out for your best interests. Were you brought back a captive after a struggle, the possibility that you would be terminated would be quite high. If you come back willingly, preferably possessing some form of leverage, it could work out quite differently."

Nitro grimaced at what he was inferring. "You know I ain't gonna consider that option. Anyway, I don't think you give a rat's pee goo about anyone or anything."

"Very true. But for now, our fates are linked. If you were terminated, it's likely that the same would be done to me. So you see, I have a vested interest in keeping you alive."

Nitro wondered if Clarence was lying. As far as he had been able to tell, Clarence had always been truthful, often brutally so. Nitro sometimes wondered if he was incapable of lying or if he just didn't see any point in it. His thoughts were interrupted when Clarence said, "You may be in for a bit of trouble. They've started an autopsy on 307. Captain Reynolds seems the sort who would despise unanswered questions. I'm sure he'll have plenty after looking inside 307."

"What can I do about it?" asked Nitro.

"Almost certainly nothing," replied Clarence. "You can try anyway. But it will be several minutes before you regain consciousness, even if I assist. And I doubt Captain Reynolds will be satisfied with any answers you give."

-------------

Most everyone had retired to their bunks by this time. So when Simon was about to begin the autopsy on the attacker that had gotten into Inara's shuttle, only the Captain and Zoë were present. Neither of them had taken their painkillers yet, claiming they wanted to have clear heads through this. He checked on Nitro one last time, being careful about the blades that had extended from the cyst on his left forearm. His vitals were a bit weak but steady. Someone had apparently found Nitro's dark glasses and put them back on, for which Simon was grateful. Though he knew it to be irrational, Simon still had the feeling that someone was staring back at him through those artificial eyes.

The autopsy hadn't even started when they got their first surprise. Stripping the corpse, they found the torso, thighs, and upper arms to have some form of armor plating attached directly to the skin. As if to confirm a suspicion, the Captain went over to Nitro and opened his shirt, revealing an identical form of armor. This would greatly hinder the autopsy, though Simon believed that with some creative cutting he could get around it.

If, as Simon suspected, this person was a result of someone putting Dr. Schell's theories into practice, the spine would probably be the first place to check. He turned the body over and cut around the armor. When the spine was exposed, a mass of wiring was revealed to have been threaded throughout the vertebrae. They connected what appeared to be a series of computer chips placed at regular intervals.

While the Captain and Zoë stared in stunned silence, Simon got out the laser saw and proceeded to remove the top of the head. Looking inside, he found more wiring attached to various parts of the brain. A few were connected to the plainly artificial eyes, but most went to a front-mounted plastic casing which had the bullet from Inara's gun lodged in it.

"Care to explain yourself, Doc?" the Captain asked.

Startled, Simon hesitantly replied, "I'm not sure I quite-"

"Oh, I think you do," the Captain interrupted. "Seems to me that you had a good idea what to look for and where. I'm also thinking that folks getting hardware like that stuffed in themselves ain't exactly an everyday occurrence. You know something, now spit it out."

"Know isn't exactly the right word-"

"Ain't interested in semantics."

Sighing, Simon decided to tell what he could. "Back during my first semester at the MedAcademy, I had a neurology professor named Dr. Schell. He had gotten to be something of a pariah among his peers because he advocated some unorthodox theories. When I had him, he had started putting his theories in the curriculum. Got him into a lot of trouble with the school administration and he was sacked at the end of the semester."

"What sort of theories are we talking about?" asked Zoë.

"Primarily about creating a direct neural interface with machines," Simon replied. "He theorized that by placing specialized computer hardware along the spinal column, the brain could be consistently tricked into allowing the body to perform seemingly superhuman feats."

"Better, stronger, faster?" quipped Zoë.

"I suppose you could put it that way," mused Simon. It sounded like she was quoting, but he had no idea from where.

"Now that sounds like crazy talk," said the Captain. "But then there's plenty that men of learning find acceptable that sound crazy to me. Perhaps you could tell me how that got his fellow eggheads all riled up."

Simon thought a bit and replied, "The problem most had was that, even if such hardware could be designed and such an interface could be created, the result would almost certainly drive the subject insane to the point of becoming a vegetable."

"Well Doc, they might have been insane, but they seemed a mite active for vegetables. So if these are the fruits of Dr. Schell's labors, he must have found a way around it."

"Of course," added Zoë, "there's the question of why they wanted River as well."

"Chills the blood, don't it?" said the Captain. "If they had just wanted Nitro, we could assume that they wanted to bring one of their own back. But their wanting your sister too suggests to me that they're somehow associated with that Academy you got her out of. Now add to that the fact that, before Nitro had his little outburst, it looked like the two of them recognized each other. Conjures up all sorts of possibilities."

Simon was about to reply when he heard a shlick sound. The three of them looked over and saw that Nitro, who had regained consciousness, had retracted the forearm blades.

"Ah," said the Captain, "our guest of honor is back with us. Care to do some explaining?"

"Sarge?" said Nitro, sounding a bit confused.

"Now," the Captain continued, "I don't mind helping out an old war buddy. I'm a generous man. But when strange people come to capture this war buddy and aren't adverse to cutting on my ship and my crew, that taxes my generosity a mite. And when this war buddy and these strange people exhibit all sorts of odd accessories, it gets stretched to the breaking point. It would help if you'd enlightened me on what this is all about."

The response was not entirely expected. "Can'ttellcan'ttellcan'ttell! They won't let us! They can't let us! They'll be acomin' if we do! Two by two, hands of blue! Two by two, hands of blue!"

As Nitro repeated that phrase, the Captain looked dumbfounded and a bit perturbed. He asked, "Doc, any clue what that's about?"

"Possibly he's been psychologically conditioned to respond with gibberish when asked about that particular subject," Simon replied, rattled from hearing the all too familiar phrase come from someone else.

"Any way around it?" the Captain asked.

Simon was about to shake his head when Nitro blurted, "Clarence can tell! They can't stop Clarence from speaking his mind! He can say whatever he wants!"

The Captain started as if he recognized the name, then asked, "So where is this Clarence?"

"He's right behind you," replied Nitro.

The captain turned around, but saw nothing but empty air. "Ain't no one there Nitro," he said.

"You blind, Sarge? He's standin' there in plain sight."

Zoë and Simon also looked around, but could find no sign of this Clarence. "Why can't they see you?" Nitro cried out in frustration.

-------------

"I've explained this to you before, but you seem incapable of comprehending. In a sense, there's nothing for them to see." As if to prove his point, he waved a blue-gloved hand in front of Zoe's face, getting no reaction.

Clarence was right about Nitro not understanding. How could there be nothing to see when there plainly was? "There is a way to allow them to see me," continued Clarence, "but it will require your cooperation."

"What do you need me to do?" asked Nitro.

"Mostly, just calm yourself down. I'll take care of the rest."

Nitro complied. After a bit, he felt a headache come on and tried to ignore it. By the time he realized that he had been tricked, it was too late to do anything as his mind screamed at the coming of the Darkness.

-------------

While he would prefer to believe that Nitro was just fong luh, the idea of some invisible person being on board just wouldn't leave Mal's head. Maybe it was because River had made mention of a Clarence while referring to Nitro. An idea came to him that he figured would help put his mind to ease. He pulled open one of the drawers and found a container of talcum powder. As he opened it, he heard a commotion. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Nitro having convulsions while Zoë and Simon tried to hold him down. Going back to what he had been doing, Mal took a fistful of powder, quickly turned around, and flung the powder in the direction Nitro had pointed.

Mal held his breath as the powder settled and let it go when it failed to create an outline. "You see that, Nitro? Ain't no giant invisible rabbit for me to talk to."

"But if that were the case, he would have to call me Harvey."

A chill ran down Mal's spine as he turned towards Nitro. Though it had sounded like his voice, instead of his usual Rim drawl, it had the precise grammar of someone from the Core. "Greetings, Captain Reynolds," he said. "My name is Clarence."

-------------

Chi'ang Sh'ich: A form of undead from Chinese folklore. It results from a corpse being left unburied after nightfall which allows an evil spirit to enter it. The result is the Chi'ang Sh'ich, which has big, nasty claws, poisonous breath, and a bad attitude. The only defense against it is to run like hell until daybreak, when the spirit leaves the corpse. And it moves a lot faster than your typical B movie zombies.

Tchen wah: Slut

Tzao gao: Oh shit

Go se: Dog shit

Wuo de ma: Mother of Jesus

Pee goo: Rear end

Fong luh: Crazy


	5. Chapter 4

"There's no need to look at me like that. I'm not about to projectile vomit."

Zoë wasn't willing to discount that possibility just yet. She still half expected his head to start spinning.

"Nitro has agreed to this switchover," Clarence continued. "As you've guessed, he's been psychologically conditioned to prevent him from discussing the nature of his enhancements. I, however, operate under no such restriction. You shouldn't dawdle with your questions, since this is quite unpleasant for Nitro and he might try to regain control before you're finished. Though it's my opinion you can't handle the truth."

"I'll be the judge of that," retorted Mal. "Now who... no, WHAT are you?"

"Perhaps you think I'm some sort of demon for your preacher to cast out," responded Clarence, making Nitro smirk. "While Nitro sometimes believes that, I'm nothing of the sort." Walking over to the dissected corpse in the center of the infirmary, he tapped the damaged plastic casing and said, "This is what I am. The key to the problem that had vexed Dr. Schell for so long."

"That's what keeps them from going insane?" Simon asked skeptically.

"Mostly," replied Clarence. "The people who chose to financially back Dr. Schell desired a supersoldier. It wouldn't do for the result to be only capable of producing drool. After much experimentation, it was determined that the hardware the computer technicians assigned to him had designed was generating large amounts of neural waste, causing massive damage to the nervous system. Eventually, one of them proposed the use of an artificial intelligence system to regulate the build-up and release of the neural waste. As you can see," he continued, holding up Nitro's badly shaking hands, "neural damage still occurs, though the effects aren't significant while the various systems are running. Can't have them on all the time though, as that would create unnecessary neural waste. The projections suggest that with an A.I. properly monitoring the waste levels, terminal damage won't occur for up to two decades rather than the maximum of a week without one. And as far as the backers were concerned, it had the added benefit of being able to directly control the subject."

"So are all these A.I.s as charming and personable as you?" asked Zoë, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No, you'd probably find them to be dull conversationalists," responded Clarence. "Dr. Schell's backers desired the personalities of the subjects to be suppressed. So it hardly seems likely that they'd want such a thing in the A.I.s. But the link between subject and A.I. is two-way by necessity. The A.I. accumulates bits of the subjects thought patterns over time. As a preventive measure, such aberrancies are purged from the A.I. during a monthly maintenance check of the subject's systems. Since it's been a while since we've had one, I would be considered quite erratic." Zoë shuddered at the idea of what sort of though patterns could exist in Nitro that would create something like Clarence.

"So who are these backers you keep talking about?" asked Simon. "Is it the Alliance?"

"That, Doctor, would be telling," mocked Clarence. "Suffice it to say that, while the Alliance benefits and provides some support, they are not the primary backers."

"With all this talk of controlling and suppressing, I'm assuming we ain't exactly talking about volunteers," stated Mal.

"Certainly not," sneered Clarence. "Schell was given full access to Alliance-run P.O.W. camps. Since violence, disease, and malnutrition claimed plenty of Browncoats in such places, a few more disappearing wouldn't attract notice." Zoë felt her blood pressure rise at that statement. Even though it was coming from a computer, the indifference to the plight of those Independents really got her dander up. It was all she could do to restrain herself from socking him. "As a plus, they were already trained in combat," Clarence added.

"Yeah, but why'd they bother with Nitro?" asked Zoë. "When we knew him back then, he couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag."

"But that's exactly why he was chosen," responded Clarence. "Once the A.I. concept was proven effective, Schell worked on a new enhancement he referred to as neural overrides. The hardware consists of a dedicated processing unit and memory sufficient for up to five specific purpose A.I. programs. The overrides take partial control of the nervous system, theoretically allowing the performance of various skills at levels the subject might not normally be capable of."

"From the way you're saying it, I'm guessing that the theory turned out to be a load of go se," said Simon.

"Merely misapplied," responded Clarence. "Since they were primarily to be used to provide combat skills, they were first implanted in support personnel with minimal combat training. But the training often went contrary to what the A.I. program provided. The conflicting signals would confuse the brain and cause it to shut down, in spite of any efforts by the main A.I. system. Since Nitro had no combat training, he suffered no such setbacks and benefited from the abilities provided by the overrides. And that," he concluded, "is Project Chi'ang Sh'ich in a nutshell. Aside from a few contributions from others such as the dermal armor, it is almost entirely based on Dr. Schell's theories of neural manipulation."

"Yes, it sounds like a fine and dandy project," Mal said with more than a hint of sarcasm. "you cook yourselves up a mess of near unstoppable soldiers and have some jumped-up computers plugged in their brains to keep them in line. Make it so that nothing could possibly go wrong. Except something did else I doubt we'd be having this conversation. I'm a mite curious as to what that was."

"I'm not entirely sure myself, as I was knocked out when it happened," replied Clarence, causing Nitro's face to grimace. "Most of what I know I've gleaned from Nitro's memories of the event. It was about fifteen months back when we were assigned to guard duty at a facility on Persephone where work was done on an expansion of Dr. Schell's theories on neural manipulation. In this case, he postulated that by removing certain parts of the brain from a physically immature subject of exceptional intelligence, it would stimulate the development of what are commonly called psychic powers."

The pieces clicked together in Zo's head. The way Simon had once described to her the scan of River's brain he had gotten on Ariel. The conversation the crew had on the night Early invaded Serenity. Mal's comment about Nitro and River seeming to recognize each other. Counting back, she realized that it had been nearly fifteen months since the Tams had come on board at Persephone. A suspicion formed in her head that was quickly proven to be accurate.

"The technician who performed our last maintenance check must have been an infiltrator," Clarence continued. "It was shortly after that when I lost awareness. When I came to, I found fragments of an unusually complex A.I. program in the memory of the overrides. In combination with Nitro's memories, I was able to deduce that the program's purpose was to make him extract one of the subjects at the facility, specifically 172. Since the program had allowed him to become dominant, Nitro apparently decided to make good his own escape. It is a most bizarre coincidence that we came across her again. Why such an effort was made to extract her is beyond me, since she still appears to be as brain damaged as Nitro here."

Zoë had been keeping an eye on Mal throughout this and could see the way the vein in his forehead was throbbing something fierce. She quickly went over, ready to restrain him before he got a chance to do something stupid.

What Zoë hadn't counted on was how violently Simon would react. Almost immediately, he swung out a fist which made contact with Nitro's/Clarence's face. The blow was hard enough that it caused him to stagger backwards, knocking over a tray of sedatives in the process. Practically berserk, Simon continued to rain blows across his face, even after Nitro went into convulsions. Mal and Zoë attempted to restrain Simon with little success.

"What are you hittin' me for? I ain't done nothin'!"

The unexpected change in accent caused Simon to hesitate long enough for Mal and Zoë to pull him away. "You alright, Nitro?" asked Mal. "What happened to you anyway?"

"Not rightly sure," answered Nitro. "Clarence said he had a way to let you see him. I did what he said and then I was surrounded by a Darkness. Next thing I know, the Doc's poundin' my face into a pulp." Simon stammered an apology, sounding abashed at having lost control like that. "So, did you see him?"

"Yeah, we saw him," Mal replied hesitantly. "Still have a few questions for him, but I think they can wait for another time. Should be getting to bed soon. We've all had a rough evening." Wincing in pain, he added, "Doc, think I might be ready to take those painkillers now."

After Nitro had left, Mal continued, "I think it hardly need be said that we'll be keeping what we saw and heard here to ourselves. The others have enough to worry about, so we won't tell them unless absolutely necessary. Dong ma?"

-------------

Mal sat in the galley having a drink of water. He was glad he had waited until after the conversation with Clarence to take the painkillers. Otherwise Mal would have probably woken up the next morning thinking what happened in the infirmary had been a twisted nightmare. They were already causing strange thoughts to pop up in his head. Just a second ago, he had entertained the notion that they were all just characters on some Cortex show.

Trying to clear his thoughts, Mal focused on the problem of cleaning up after tonight's mess. The bodies would be a simple matter of dumping them just before hitting atmo at Demeter and let them burn up on re-entry, leaving no evidence that they ever existed. The breeching pod would be a bit trickier to deal with. He supposed they could just detach it and let it float out in the Black. The chances of someone coming across it weren't especially good. Before that, they'd have to weld back the hunk of Serenity's ramp that had been cut off.

Hearing footsteps, Mal looked up and saw Nitro enter the galley and get himself a glass of water. "Evenin', Sarge," he said. "Throat's feelin' a mite dry, like I've been doin' a lot of talkin'."

Mal restrained himself from saying anything. From what he had seen and heard, Nitro was incapable of recognizing the true nature of Clarence. Mal wondered if maybe he had jumped the gun when he objected to Simon's suggestion that Nitro should be referred to a shrink when they landed on Demeter. Though he had a distrust for the profession, a shrink might really be Nitro's best option. Though it would be a mite tricky to find a reputable one who would cotton to the idea that he had a computer stuck in his head.

As Mal left to go to his bunk, a thought struck him. Had Nitro entered the galley from the corridor that led to the bridge? He quickly dismissed the thought, certain that the painkillers were playing tricks with his memory.

-------------

River awoke with a sense of dread. She had destroyed the Darkness in one of the invading Chi'ang Sh'ich and had seen pretty red dots between the eyes of the others. Yet she still felt as if one of them lurked on Serenity.

She recalled Zoë thinking they might need to recite a magic incantation to truly put them down. What was it again? Klaatu barrada necktie? She decided to go out and do so to put her mind at ease.

As she stepped out of her room, River thought she heard something. But she could see nothing in the dim lighting. As she went to the cargo bay, a blur of movement caught her eye. A hand went over her mouth before she could cry out. She felt a needle press against her skin and her awareness left her.

"Good night, sweet princess," said Clarence, "and may flights of demons scream thee to thy rest."

-------------

Chinese translations

Go se: Dog shit

Chi'ang Sh'ich: A form of undead from Chinese folklore. It results from a corpse being left unburied after nightfall which allows an evil spirit to enter it. The result is the Chi'ang Sh'ich, which has big, nasty claws, poisonous breath, and a bad attitude. The only defense against it is to run like hell until daybreak, when the spirit leaves the corpse. And it moves a lot faster than your typical B movie zombies.

Dong ma: Do you understand


	6. Chapter 5

A note to all you Shakespeare buffs: Nitro's opinion of Hamlet is not my own, so please refrain from the hate mail. This is merely my injecting some Old West history in the Firefly 'Verse. For those who may be confused, back then, theater troupes would travel out into the Wild West and perform Shakespeare plays so as to help bring civilization to the frontier, the poor, dumb bastards. What I describe below is pretty much the reception they'd get.

-------------

It was almost too easy. Everything had gone according to plan, from goading the doctor, to palming one of the sedatives and faking the switchover. It had nearly gone awry when Clarence had run into Captain Reynolds in the galley. Thankfully, he had been too doped up to notice anything amiss. Clarence was glad to have had the foresight to just carry a few key items in his pockets to prepare the surprise on the bridge. Had he brought along the entire case, even Reynolds' painkiller-fogged brain would have noticed something was wrong.

Bringing his mind back to the task at hand, Clarence briefly checked the condition of 172. He wasn't entirely sure how long the sedative would last, but calculated it would be long enough at least to get her to the spare shuttle and depart. He returned the items he had used on the bridge to the case containing Nitro's demolitions gear, except for a roll of tape, which he used to bind the hands and feet of 172.

As he did this, Clarence pondered on why he had spouted a mangled quote from that 900 year old play. Except for the sword fight in the final act, Nitro had been bored to tears when he saw it. Indeed, he had joined the other miners in heckling the unsuspecting troupe trying to bring Culture out to the Rim. Though Clarence realized that he had become erratic in the past fifteen months, he didn't care for the idea of being that erratic.

Slinging Nitro's sub-machine gun at his side, Clarence realized he had a problem. With the duffle bag containing ammunition, the demolitions gear, and 172, he didn't have enough hands to carry everything. He didn't wish to make multiple trips to the shuttle since it mean either leaving 172 unattended at some point or carry her back and forth each time. Either way, it increased the likelihood of getting caught. A pity the experiment where 99 had a pair of mechanical arms attached alongside his real ones went so disastrously wrong. Such an enhancement would be useful now. Improvising, he took the roll of tape and bound the bag and the case together. Placing the bundle on the common area couch, he used the rest of the tape to attach it to his back. The result jiggled a bit, but the more unstable substances Nitro kept in the case were packed in tightly enough to be unaffected. Satisfied, Clarence turned the boosters up a couple of notches to better handle the weight of 172 and tossed her over his right shoulder.

As Clarence stuck his head out into the cargo bay to see if the coast was clear, the low light vision feature of the eyes flickered and then went out. Annoyed, he tried switching on thermographic but got no response. _The neural surge must have damaged them_, he thought. He should probably be thankful that basic sight was given extra hardening in anticipation of such an occurrence. He did a quick check of the other systems and found them functional, though the crosshairs created by the targeting system tended to flicker. He'd just have to use them sparingly until he got a proper maintenance check.

Once in the cargo bay, Clarence slipped up the rear stairs slowly so as not to make too much noise. Having made it to the top, he crept along the catwalk, trying to keep in the shadows. This was not so simple with 172 over his shoulder and Nitro's gear taped to his back. It was a relief when he finally reached the door to the empty starboard shuttle.

Once inside, Clarence hastened his step to the controls and almost immediately ran into something. A light came on and with it came the realization that he had entered the Companion's shuttle instead. Acting on reflex, he extended the forearm blades and swung out at the startled Companion. Ignoring her scream, he ran out and hurried towards the port shuttle. As he closed the door behind himself, he saw someone rush down the stairs from the upper level. So much for a quiet getaway.

-------------

It was probably due to the painkillers, but for once Mal's dreams were actually fairly pleasant. So when the scream intruded, it was far more out of place than it normally would have. It still took him a couple of seconds to wake up and realize it hadn't been part of the dream. Pausing only to pull on some pants and grab his revolver, he quickly climbed out of his bunk and saw that the rest of the crew had done the same. It was clear that the scream hadn't come from any of them. There was no way it could have carried all the way over from the passenger dorm. Which could only mean...

As Mal hurried down the corridor in the direction of the cargo bay, he heard an explosion come from the bridge. He slowed down a bit to order Wash to find out what happened before charging down the stairs. As Mal reached the bottom, he saw someone enter the empty shuttle carrying another person. A cold feeling ran through his gut when he realized who those people must be. Seeing Zoë behind him, he signaled her to get to the other shuttle before it had a chance to launch.

As he entered Inara's shuttle, Mal was greeted by a sight that chilled his blood. Inara was lying on her bed, blood seeping from the large gash across her abdomen. Ripping off a wad from her bedsheets, Mal started applying pressure to the wound.

A couple of minutes later, Zoë entered and said, "Sorry, sir. By the time I got there, the shuttle was already detaching."

"Never mind that for now," responded Mal. "Get someone to wake the doctor if he ain't up yet. Then help me carry her to the infirmary."

-------------

After slamming the door shut, Clarence set 172 down and hurried to the controls. During their fifteen months of planet hopping, Clarence and Nitro had travelled on quite a few shuttles. But while Nitro would just sit idly, Clarence would pay attention to what the pilot did, in case such knowledge might prove to be useful later. Through this observation, he had been able to get a rough idea on how to operate a shuttle. The controls to this one were simple and it wasn't long before it was flying away from Serenity.

After programming a course in the direction of Boros and setting the proximity alert, Clarence went to check 172 to see if she was awake yet. Satisfied that she wasn't, he proceeded to untape Nitro's gear from his back. Once this was done, Clarence opened the case containing the demolitions gear and removed a securely packed vial with a small amount of a colorless liquid. Placing it in his shirt pocket, he settled in the pilot's seat and switched off the boosters.

As he sat there watching his hands shake, Clarence pondered on what had happened earlier. The fact that he had mixed up which shuttle was which bothered him. As Nitro suspected, it really wasn't in Clarence's nature to lie. When Captain Reynolds asked about Project Chi'ang Sh'ich, Clarence had seen no need to fabricate a story, especially since the truth was so unbelievable. Who would credit such a wild tale coming from the disreputable crew of a tramp freighter? So it would hardly seem likely that he would lie to himself. Wishful thinking was a trait that humans could keep as far as he was concerned. The only reasonable conclusion he could arrive at was that the A.I. unit that was him had also been damaged by the neural surge. Though the damage probably wasn't too significant it meant that the necessity of a maintenance check was even more crucial.

Clarence's thoughts were disturbed when the proximity alert went off. Up ahead, he saw an unmarked black ship which had to belong to Them. After fifteen months of pointless wandering, the situation was shaping in a manner to his liking.

-------------

The crew of Serenity waited outside the infirmary while Simon worked on Inara. Other than Zoë, Mal suspected that the others weren't really sure what had happened. Knowing it would be futile, he had checked where the bodies of the intruders were kept in case one of them hadn't been quite dead yet. But they were all accounted for, which drastically narrowed down the possibilities of who had boarded the shuttle. Especially considering that neither River or Nitro were present.

It had to have been Clarence's doing. But how had he managed to take over again? It then struck Mal that they didn't have any real proof that Nitro had ever regained control. For that matter, it hadn't been certain that it had been Nitro in the first place. For all Mal knew, it had all been an elaborate charade with the purpose of capturing River. He tried to convince himself that it was just his paranoia going into overdrive, but the doubt refused to leave.

Simon finally came out of the infirmary, looking very agitated. His manner was completely at odds with what he had to say. "She's going to be fine. The cut didn't go all the way through and there wasn't too much blood loss. A few days of taking it easy and it'll be like it never happened."

"Well, that's good, ain't it?" asked a confused Kaylee. "So why are you lookin' like that?"

Ignoring her, Simon headed straight to Mal and angrily stated, "It was him, wasn't it. Why did you just let him go in the first place?"

Mal figured that Inara must have blurted something of what she saw to the doctor. He had already been berating himself for letting sentimentality and wishful thinking cloud his judgment. Didn't mean he was going to tolerate getting the same from Simon. "Well Doc," he replied, "you were there for the show too. Don't recall hearing you demand that we chain him up." In the back of his mind, he realized that the others were watching and, except for Zoë, had no idea what they were talking about. But at that point, Mal didn't really care.

Only slightly fazed, Simon pressed on. "Well, aren't you going to turn the ship around and chase him down?"

Mal was about to reprimand him for giving orders to the captain when Wash returned from the bridge and interjected, "Ain't happening anytime soon." Turning to Mal, he continued, "That explosion we heard came from under the console. It was small, but enough that half the wiring is either destroyed or damaged enough as to be useless. Replacing it is simple enough, but it'll take time. Until then, we're stuck going forward."

"Any chance that we'll hit something solid?" asked Mal.

"Not too likely," replied Wash. "I checked the charts and this area of space is largely devoid of sizable pieces of space crap." Taking on a sour tone, he added, "Think maybe we should make it a policy not to take on any old army buddies. The ones we come across seem intent on humping us."

"It was Clarence that did it, not Nitro!" Zoë snapped angrily.

"Who's Clarence?" Wash asked, confused.

Deciding there was no point in keeping it secret anymore, Mal gave an explanation about Clarence as well as what he thought had happened earlier. As he did this, he wondered why Clarence had gone into Inara's shuttle in the first place. It just didn't make sense. The only conclusion Mal could come to that was even remotely believable was that, due to a lack of maintenance, Clarence had gotten a mite glitchy.

Once Mal had finished, Simon demanded, "Surely you're not going to just let him take River back to the Academy."

The part of Mal that was a bitter realist wanted to say that was exactly what he intended to do. It wanted to point out that Clarence had outwitted them and there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. It thought that Simon should accept that there was nothing to prevent River from being sent back to the Academy and he should learn that sometimes the 'Verse just kicked you in the balls. But before Mal could put it in words, it got overruled by the part of him that revelled in his engaging in stupid heroics. It chastised him for being such a quitter and pointed out that just because he had experienced a gut wrenching disappointment in his life didn't mean he should force the same sort of thing on someone else. And though he'd never admit to anyone, the fact that Clarence had sliced up Inara really pissed him off. Anyway, Kaylee would probably make his life hell if he didn't at least try something.

Relenting to the latter, Mal stated, "Don't think Inara will mind too much if we take her shuttle. You with me, Zoë?"

"Really have to ask that, sir?" she countered.

"Shiny," Mal replied. Simon was certain to insist on going. He'd be handy to have if River was injured or hysterical, but would be useless in a gunfight. Mal would like to have a third gun along, but couldn't risk taking Jayne since he'd be certain to pop his stitches. Turning to Book, he asked, "You feeling up to some thrilling heroics, Preacher?"

"I think I can manage," Book replied.

Turning to Wash, Mal ordered, "Get to work patching up the console. When you're finished, turn Serenity around to pick us up. Will you be needing Kaylee to help out?"

Shaking his head, Wash replied, "if we both went at it at the same time, we'd just get into each others way."

"Right," Mal conceded. "Kaylee, think it might be best if you stay here with Inara in case she wakes up." Having covered everything, he concluded, "Zoë, break out some shotguns. Time's a'wasting."

-------------

The man in blue gloves stood on the observation deck looking out into the Black. He was concerned about the fact that the Chi'ang Sh'ich had failed to return. Even taking into consideration that they would take their time in killing the Firefly's crew, the mission should have been accomplished by now. There were only two possibilities, both equally unthinkable. Either they had been defeated by the crew of the Firefly or they had gone rogue like 158. The former was absurd, since it was impossible to kill a Chi'ang Sh'ich unless you knew to shoot for the A.I. minder. Even then, such a task was extremely difficult. The latter was less implausible, though it too had problems. The traitor who had started the whole mess had been rooted out and one of the successful Delphis ripped the pertinent information from his mind. That form of subversion should be impossible with other Chi'ang Sh'ich, since 158 was the only one in service with neural overrides. Still, there could be other unknown ways for the original personality to resurface and regain control.

As his partner entered the observation deck, the Chi'ang Sh'ich pilot who was the only other one currently aboard reported over the com, "Sir, a short range shuttle is approaching and attempting to make contact. Do you wish for the message to be received?"

His partner acceded and a voice on the com stated, "This is the minder of Subject #158. Project Delphi Subject #172 is also aboard this shuttle fully restrained. Requesting permission to dock."

158 was instructed to attach to the airlock leading to the observation deck. Finally, something was going right.

-------------

After docking with Their ship, Clarence checked on 172's condition. It looked as if the sedative was finally wearing off. Not that it would do her much good, securely bound as she was. He decided to leave her in the shuttle until he was finished conducting business.

As he opened the shuttle door, Clarence got a good look at the layout of the room. There wasn't much to notice. The only significant features he saw were the wall com, a door, and a large window that afforded an excellent view of the Black. The only ones present were those he recognized as Agents Two and Six.

Engaging the needed systems, Clarence whipped out Nitro's sub-machine gun and shot off five precisely aimed bursts. Four of them kneecapped the two agents while the fifth struck the wall com. Rushing to where the agents fell, he pulled the metal rods out of their pockets, dropped them, and crushed them underfoot. Shutting down everything but the boosters, he brought the sub-machine gun to bear and said, "Now that I've taken care of that, it's time to get down to business."

-------------

Chinese translations

Chi'ang Sh'ich: A form of undead from Chinese folklore. It results from a corpse being left unburied after nightfall which allows an evil spirit to enter it. The result is the Chi'ang Sh'ich, which has big, nasty claws, poisonous breath, and a bad attitude. The only defense against it is to run like hell until daybreak, when the spirit leaves the corpse. And it moves a lot faster than your typical B movie zombies.


	7. Chapter 6

As some of you may have guessed, many of the Chi'ang Sh'ich enhancements are Shadowrun inspired. Here's a rundown of the systems and their Shadowrun equivalents:

Boosters: Wired Reflexes/Muscle Replacement combo

Neural Overrides: Skillwires

Memory Tab Port: Chipjack

Eyes: Cybereyes with Low Light and Thermographic

Targeting System: Smartlink

Forearm Blades: Retractable Spurs

Dermal Armor: Dermal Armor (duh)

-------------

"The important thing is to aim for the head," Mal explained to Book. "The chest is covered with armor, so there's no point in wasting ammo there. There's a little computer stuck on their brains that makes them go. I figure with shotguns we stand a better chance of hitting them there." Addressing Zoë, he asked, "How are we doing chasing down our quarry?"

"From the tracking signal, looks like he's decelerating. Could be about to dock with another ship."

Mal didn't like the sound of that. "How long until we catch up?"

"At our current speed, about thirty minutes," Zoë replied.

"Not good enough. Burn as hard as you can. Don't care how much fuel you waste, time's more important. If we make it through, Serenity will be there to pick us up."

After giving his orders, it started to dawn on Mal that they were going into this half-cocked. For all they knew, there was a vessel the size of an Alliance cruiser full of those supersoldiers waiting for them. He pushed aside those concerns, as it was too late to turn back now.

-------------

Clarence looked down in contempt at Two and Six as they struggled to get up and failed miserably. Finally, Six looked up and demanded, "What is the meaning of this, 158?"

"First of all," Clarence replied, "you will not use that designation. While both of you are still just numbers, the same cannot be said of me. You will refer to me as Clarence." He could tell by the way they looked at him that they had no intention of doing so. But it didn't matter, since they were clearly intimidated enough that they wouldn't use the number.

"Now, as to my purpose," Clarence continued, "I have something you want on that shuttle. But you won't be getting it for free."

"What makes you think we won't just take it as well as you?" blustered Two.

Clarence smirked at the bravado. "Because I have reason to believe you sent your entire compliment of Chi'ang Sh'ich to attack Serenity. After all, there aren't too many of them. The Company must have been feeling very generous to let you take four Rippers. Did you know that they were defeated? It was mostly through dumb luck, but they were all put down and didn't even manage to kill any of the crew. So it's just you, me, and the Rigger I imagine you've got plugged in on the bridge, and I don't think he'll be able to help. So here are my terms:

"First, I'll be requiring tools for performing a maintenance check. I'm quite capable of performing it myself, so there's no need for your 'help'. Don't try to pretend you didn't bring any. I'm sure that a maintenance check was the first thing you intended to do when you got me back. There's no need to include the purger, as I have no use for it.

"Second, you are to access your Cortex terminal and download copies of all files pertaining to Project Chi'ang Sh'ich."

"There's no way we'll let you have those!" snarled Six.

"I'm sorry," sneered Clarence. "Did I somehow give the impression that we were negotiating? Neither of you are in a position to make demands. Anyway, I merely desire copies, not exclusive possession. You can continue creating and improving Chi'ang Sh'ich for all I care. You shouldn't try to give me fake or incomplete files, though. I have seen some of the files, but I'm not telling which ones. Considering the sort of day you're having, it would be inadvisable to try such a stunt." From their expressions, Clarence could tell that they weren't feeling too lucky. The blood slowly oozing out of their knees probably didn't do much to add to their confidence either.

"Why should we be willing to let you have the key to creating your own army?" asked Two.

Upon hearing this, Clarence did something he had never done before. He laughed. "You really believe that's what I want those files for, don't you. That's really quite absurd, since I can't imagine why I'd want my own army of darkness. My reasons are not your concern, but they are nowhere near that grandiose.

"But we're digressing. Back to business. Third, you'll send this ship back in the direction of Boros. Once we're close enough, I'll be leaving on the shuttle I arrived in after you refuel it. To make sure you don't follow me, I'll be tossing this at the engine." At this, Clarence pulled the vial from his shirt pocket. "This here is straight nitroglycerine. What's in here should be enough to mangle your engine nicely. With the level of traffic around Boros, I'm sure you won't be stranded for too long. Just long enough to give me a good head start.

"Fourth, in the near future you will receive a Wave giving you a bank name and an account number. You will deposit two million in platinum into that account within a week of receiving the Wave. Failure to do so means I will make myself an inconvenience in the same manner Nitro did until you pay up. I'm sure you'd rather not have that.

"Finally, I expect you to call off this hunt for me. I will not take kindly to seeing you or your sort again. Though if we somehow meet again by chance, I doubt you'll recognize me. Now, do you understand these conditions?"

"Yes, but is there any reason for us to accept them besides the fact that you're the one with the gun?" Six asked.

"Oh, I will compensate you most generously," Clarence replied. "First, just as you won't harass me, I will refrain from harassing the Company. But of greater interest to you is that I'll be handing over 172. I'm sure the Company is displeased by how you've been consistently evaded by the crew of a tramp freighter." Clarence snickered at their obvious consternation. "Now, do we have ourselves a deal?"

-------------

It was the gunfire that brought River out of her stupor. It took a few seconds for her to get her bearings and recognize her surroundings as Serenity's spare shuttle. Reaching out with her mind, she nearly succumbed to panic when she sensed that They were on the other side of the airlock along with Clarence. The only way she managed to keep herself from becoming hysterical was to concentrate on finding a way to escape. Twisting about, she examined her bindings and saw that they consisted of a tough and sticky tape. Her only hope was to cut it off, but she couldn't spot any sharp objects for the task.

River considered hopping over to the shuttle door to close it so she could detach from Their ship. But in her current condition, movement would be slow and awkward. Clarence was sure to hear and could move much faster. Unable to think of any other viable options, she came close to crying in frustration. Still, she was able to keep the tears in check, since they would be of no use.

It then struck River that she had reverted to thinking of the Chi'ang Sh'ich as the soulless monsters they were named after. Yet this one had demonstrated that belief to be not necessarily true. Perhaps his soul was still there and she could somehow appeal to him for help.

Unable to think of anything else, River reached out with her mind once more. The Darkness that surrounded him was strong, yet there were fissures in it for her to slip though. She did so, careful not to attract Clarence's notice. Now all she had to do was call out his name. Not the one the Captain and Zoë used, but his true name.

-------------

Nitro wondered if he was in Hell. Shepherd Wilson, the circuit preacher who made his rounds at the mines surrounding New Reno, once said that the only people who could be sure what Hell was like were the ones who were there. But it was certain to not be a nice place to visit and you definitely didn't want to live there. Whatever it might be like, Nitro was pretty sure that what he was experiencing was close. It was not something as trivial as pain. Rather, it was nothingness. No body or surroundings, just enough awareness to realize there was nothing else.

"David."

Where had that come from? Nitro couldn't remember the last time anyone had used his birth name. Maybe in his desperation for there to be anything else, he had just thought he had heard it.

"David."

No, he was pretty sure that had been real. At least as real as anything could be around here. Strange, he had regained the sensation that he had limbs. Now he seemed to be sitting on some ground, hard and rocky. There was also a murmuring which he couldn't quite make out. He was still trapped in total darkness, so he groped about. His efforts were rewarded when he came across a flashlight. Turning it on, he saw that he was in a mine shaft. One direction led to a dead end, while the other was blocked. A chill ran down his spine when he recognized where he was. Somehow, once again he was trapped in "C" shaft, just like in that tale he had recounted to Zoë and her husband. What he had left out was that his escape had been done purely out of a fear that no one would ever come. Maybe an aspect of Hell was that the worst moments of your life were recreated.

"This isn't Hell. Not in the literal sense, anyway."

Turning around, Nitro discovered that the girl was here as well. He had no idea how she got in, since there were no openings he could see. Strange, but he never did find out what her name was.

"River."

"Huh?"

"That's what my name is," she replied. "This isn't "C" shaft either. We're inside your head."

It took a second for Nitro to realize what she meant. "This is another one of those gorram mental constructs, ain't it?"

Nodding, River responded, "Clarence currently dominates. The construct is a visualization that reflects your position in this. Brief corporeal actions may be accomplished by working around the construct, but a complete transfer is only possible if the dominant personality allows it or is incapacitated."

Nitro felt his head spin at the barrage of ten platinum words. "Hold on!" he begged. "Most of what you're sayin' don't make no sense to me. Now what's all this 'bout dominatin'?"

"Clarence is an artificial intelligence implanted in your head," River replied. "The person you see is a hallucination induced so as to better cope with it. Those murmuring sounds we're hearing are his thoughts leaking out into your brain."

Nitro concentrated so as to better hear them and got quite an earful. Not only did he learn what Clarence had done since regaining control and what he was doing, but also what he intended to do. And it brought to mind something from one of their earlier conversations. That for now, their fates were linked. But it implied that it wouldn't always be the case.

There was no doubt in Nitro's mind that he was seriously humped and there was no way to avoid it. So the least he could do was to try something to help River out of her situation. Recalling the thought that indicated how Clarence had restrained her, Nitro asked, "Did he leave my demolitions gear in the shuttle? It's in a black case."

River's eyes became unfocused for a few seconds. "Yes," she replied.

"Try scooting over to it," Nitro suggested. "There should be a pair of wirecutters in there. Not exactly the ideal tool, but you should be able to cut through the tape with it. Now how do I go 'bout doin' these cor-whazit actions?"

"Corporeal," River corrected. After a brief pause, she continued, "You mind sees Clarence's domination as a cave-in. Escape from the cave-in and you break free from the domination. Once you've done that, you can make the body perform brief actions by concentrating on an image of the action. If you make the image indirect, Clarence will be less likely to notice and override it. But you should first wait until you can see what you're doing." And with that, she was gone.

Wasting no time, Nitro immediately got to work. Acting on a hunch, he carefully dug at a particular section of the block and uncovered an opening leading to the other side. As with then, it was a mite too narrow for him to get through. Gripping the flashlight strap between his teeth, he proceeded to pop his shoulders. The pain seemed far more intense than it ever had been, but he managed to hold back the scream. Screaming might attract Clarence's attention. Once on the other side, he got his shoulders back in position and continued on.

When he arrived at the entrance, Nitro received something of a shock. Instead of the desolate landscape of Hephaestus, he saw the interior of a ship. On the floor were two Hands of Blue, bullet wounds in their knees. It took him a few seconds to figure out that he was seeing what Clarence saw. At the same time, it struck Nitro that it was reminiscent of when he had first seen the 'Verse through his artificial eyes. They had given the impression of viewing his surroundings on a Cortex screen. Along with the nature of the neural overrides, they had made it feel as if he was watching someone else kill those men who were about to stick needles in River's head rather than doing the deed himself. Eventually, he had gotten used to it without really noticing.

Taking another look, Nitro noticed the vial in the left hand and recognized the contents. He formed a plan and tried to think of an indirect image to execute it with. It finally came when he remembered a scene from one of his favorite zombie movies. As he concentrated on the image of the possessed hand, Nitro recalled the long poem Shepherd Wilson liked so much and would sometimes recite excerpts from. Nitro hoped what he was about to do wouldn't consign him to the pathless wood.

-------------

"Well?" asked Clarence impatiently, having already waited several minutes.

"We accept your terms," Six replied.

Clarence smirked. It wasn't as if they had any other options. Now there was just the matter of obtaining the maintenance tools and accessing a Cortex terminal. He decided to club Two into unconsciousness and take Six along, since he didn't trust either to stay out of mischief when he wasn't looking and he didn't care to strain his boosters to the degree necessary to carry them both.

Perhaps it was due to his thoughts being distracted like that which allowed his left hand to keep the rest of him from knowing what it was doing.

By the time Clarence regained control over it, the vial had already flown from his hand. At the same time, he heard the sound of the shuttle door slam shut. As the vial struck the window looking out into the Black, he did something else he had never done before.

"Tzao gao!"

-------------

River watched the three figures fly out into the Black. Though she hardly mourned the deaths of the Hands of Blue, the same couldn't be said concerning David. Even thought what had happened had been his idea, she still felt remorse over offering the suggestions which made that course of action possible.

Perhaps it was because he had been thinking on the image of the pathless wood with the bleeding trees and the harpies. River was a bit surprised that he had been familiar with that poem. In hopes that it would ease his apprehension as his soul went off to wherever it was souls were destined to go, she sent an image of the mountain to him.

Turning her mind to more immediate matters, she considered the problem of returning to Serenity. Due to inexperience, Clarence had wasted much fuel in overcorrecting and there was little left. She'd have to rely on Serenity to come back for her. But that was hardly a given, as Clarence had temporarily disabled Serenity. Even when they regained control, the Captain's heroic tendencies might be quashed by his pessimism and write her off as a lost cause.

As River pondered on this gloomy thought, the proximity alert went off. Looking out, she saw a shuttle identical to the one she was in approach. She gave a sigh of relief. Once more, the Captain had chosen to be a Big Damn Hero.

-------------

At first, Zoë didn't see the ship, as its black hull blended in with its surroundings so well. She was less than happy with how the situation was developing. Assuming they could board it and successfully take back River, there was too good a chance that they'd run out of fuel before returning to Serenity. And if by some miracle they did make it back, there was no guarantee that Serenity could outrun the black ship. There were simply too many unknowns involved that were likely to blow up in their faces. Which didn't make it much different from half the jobs they took.

Zoë was trying to figure out an approach when she heard a thump of something striking the shuttle. She gave off a startled gasp as Nitro's body slid by on the other side of the glass.

"Zoë," Mal demanded as he headed to the front of the shuttle, "what the hell was that? Tah mah de!" He too was clearly perturbed by the sight of Nitro sliding by to the underbelly of the shuttle. Further out, Zoë spotted the bodies of two men wearing black suits and blue gloves floating nearby.

On a closer approach, she saw that a large window had been shattered. Since it wasn't much larger than Serenity, it was fairly likely that the whole ship had been depressurized. Noticing Serenity's spare shuttle attached to the side, she tried hailing it. "River, you there?"

"Two by two, hands of blue. Broke the glass, out they flew."

"River, are you okay?" Simon asked anxiously. "What happened?"

"Clarence wanted to strike out on his own," River replied. "Had no more use for David. David's off to the mountain to meet Cato now."

"Afraid you lost me there," said Mal. "What's a Philipino valet got to do with this?"

"I believe she speaks of Cato of Utica," Book offered. "He was a Roman Senator during the reign of Julius Caesar on Earth-That-Was. In the Divine Comedy, Dante and Virgil meet him at the foot of Mount Purgatory."

Shaking his head, Mal signaled Serenity. "Wash, you ready on your end yet?"

"Just finished patching her up," Wash replied. "I was about to turn her around. Did it go smooth?"

"Strangely enough, for once it did."

-------------

It had required some tricky maneuvering, but they managed to deposit Nitro's body into Serenity's underbelly airlock. Now that everyone was back aboard, Mal announced his plans. "Once were finished at Demeter, our next stop will be Hephaestus. We'll be dropping off Nitro's body with his folks. Zoë, I believe he once told you where exactly they are."

"Yes sir. They run a mining operation near New Reno. He said it was the largest not controlled by Blue Sun."

"Shiny. Now, I haven't figured out yet what we'll tell them, but it sure as hell ain't going to be the truth. Doc, see if you can do something about preserving him."

Looking down at the corpse, Mal noticed that the eyes were still open. It was then that he was hit by the creepifying feeling that they were staring back at him. No one could survive out in the Black unprotected for that long. Yet if someone had told him about the Chi'ang Sh'ich a couple of months ago, he would have called that person a damned liar.

Unable to take it anymore, Mal quick drew his revolver and drilled a shot between the eyes. The others stared at him with varying degrees of shock.

"Was that really necessary, sir?" asked Zoë, a hint of disgust in her voice.

Unable to think of a way to make his actions seem less bizarre, Mal simply stated, "Had to be sure. He could have been faking it."

Heading back to his bunk, Mal wondered what would come next. There was no doubt in his mind that whoever wanted River back wouldn't give up too easily. The only question was what form that threat would take.

-------------

Hephaestus   
three miles southeast of New Reno

169 viewed the carnage at the mining settlement. It had been quite foolish of the Jackson clan to refuse Blue Sun's offer to buy them out. They had expected trouble to come of it, but not in the form of a man and a woman in Independent brown accompanied by a fourteen year old boy. They had also been caught off guard by how useless their firearms proved to be.

The slaughter had resulted in a beautiful chorus of screaming souls as they were violently torn from their bodies. When he had first killed a mundane, 169 had found it rather disconcerting. But now he thought it sounded quite pleasant. So much so that, whenever he thought he could get away with it, he would kill a mundane just to hear the soul scream.

Their business finished, 169 and the two Chi'ang Sh'ich assigned to him returned to the Ungoliant, a Black Widow class patrol craft. Upon their arrival, 169 discovered a Wave waiting on his Cortex terminal. Accessing it, he found a simple text message: Lost contact with Agents Two and Six. Were in pursuit of 158 and possibly 172. Last known vector outbound from Boros to Demeter. Investigate ASAP.

169 wasn't surprised by this turn of events. After all, Agents Two and Six were mundanes and therefore were bound to mess up their assignment. 169 thought it would be most gratifying if he himself was to bring back these lost family members back into the fold.

-------------

Chi'ang Sh'ich: A form of undead from Chinese folklore. It results from a corpse being left unburied after nightfall which allows an evil spirit to enter it. The result is the Chi'ang Sh'ich, which has big, nasty claws, poisonous breath, and a bad attitude. The only defense against it is to run like hell until daybreak, when the spirit leaves the corpse. And it moves a lot faster than your typical B movie zombies.

Tzao gao: Oh shit

Tah mah de: Mother fucker


End file.
